


I Love You

by kinkwriter



Series: Lies [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9317201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkwriter/pseuds/kinkwriter
Summary: “I’ve got you,” Orson whispered. “I’ll always have you.”There was more than one meaning to his words, but Galen couldn’t bring himself to over analyse that at this particular moment. He was far too busy letting Orson do that thing where he breathed into his ear and tweaked a nipple in time with his thrusts.





	

Galen stood close to Orson as the ship flew from the surface back to the destroyer. The cabin was silent, but for the shifting of the deathtroopers and so when Jyn spoke, it rang through the space like a shot.

“I’m cold,” she said and Galen could see her shivering as her damp clothes took on the cool temperature of the recycled air.

Orson stirred a bit as pulled his white cape up and around her. It was also wet but the added insulation seemed to help and she snuggled her head further into Orson’s shoulder. She was so trusting of the director, but then she had no reason not to be. Galen had always been very careful about what he said about her other father. He never let her hear any of Saw’s rants and he’d never spoken of Orson as anything but a loving father who had been lost to them.

“Thank you, father,” she murmured and Galen could only watched as the last word seemed to jolt something inside of the cold director. Orson’s eyes moved to Galen and the engineer could see that he knew whom he had to thank for Jyn’s warm welcome.

“We’ll get you into some dry things when we get back up to the ship, my love,” Orson murmured into her hair.

“Sir!” the pilot called from the cockpit. “Governor Tarkin is on the comm for you.”

Galen saw Orson’s fingers noticeably tighten on the little girl before reluctantly releasing her back into his husband’s arms. Galen took her and sat down with her on his lap while Orson walked up to the cockpit. The director’s words were hushed, and Galen couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Is that where we’re going?” Jyn asked. Galen followed her gaze to the viewport opposite them. The star destroyer hung there suspended in space like a grey beacon against the darkness.

He grimaced but nodded. “Yes, sweetheart. But not for too long,” he said, his hand squeezing her arm in reassurance.

Jyn continued to stare at it intently. His daughter was only now starting to really show what interested her, and starships were the number one thing she asked him about. Galen had spent many a night explaining the inner workings of the toy ships she had.

Behind them, Orson slammed the comm back down onto the console. Whatever conversation he’d been having hadn’t gone well.

“Sir, do you want them taken to the brig?” one of the ‘troopers asked quietly.

Galen didn’t even look back as Orson answered. “Of course not, you _idiot._ That’s my husband and daughter. Escort them to my quarters,” he said, though he paused for a second before adding, “Post a guard outside.”

The engineer snorted. Where was he supposed to go in the middle of a star destroyer carrying a six-year-old? He heard the man come back towards him as the ship jolted and landed. Galen held tightly to Jyn as he felt a darkly gloved hand rest on his shoulder and then the slightest flutter of fingers against his throat.

He could not stop his shiver.

Orson leaned over and his lips nearly brushed Galen’s ear as he spoke in low tones. “I need to go and report on our joyful reunion to the emperor. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Galen could say nothing past the lump in his throat, so he only nodded. Orson stood back up again. Galen felt the man’s eyes on him for another second before the director turned and left with a swirl of his short cape.

The two deathtroopers that remained escorted him through the ship. Galen kept his eyes carefully on the ground as they passed officers and ‘troopers in the corridors. Many of them recognized him, and those that didn’t were still aware of the point of this mission—to retrieve Galen Erso, a wayward scientist and the husband of Director Krennic. He was a mess in his dirty damp clothes and long unkempt hair. Appearance hadn’t been important on Lah'mu, but things would change soon. Orson wouldn’t allow anything else.

When the distant door to Krennic’s quarters opened, Galen saw a junior officer just finishing up placing a meal on the table inside. The woman gave a shallow bow of respect and left without another word. The food smelled amazing; Galen’s gaze drifted over a small stack of corellian spice cakes that sat in the middle called to him, but he resolutely ignored the pastries in favor of setting Jyn down on the ground.

His daughter was wide-eyed and her doll was held even closer to her chest. She blinked rapidly as she took in the clean and minimal design of the room. Their home on Lah’mu had never been dirty, but Galen had been particularly useless when it came to anything more than cursory house cleaning. There had always been a deeply ingrained sense of age and use to everything there; that was all Jyn had really known the last three years of her short life. She took a hesitant step forward before looking up at him with questions in her eyes.

He nodded hesitantly. “Be careful Jyn. Things here can be breakable.”

She nodded, then ran to the wide viewport that presented a glowing scene of Lah’mu. The swirls of black, green and blue were actually rather beautiful from space and gave little hint of the barren existence of the many farmers who eked out a living there. Her tiny hands and face were pressed against the duraplast; Galen knew there would be smudged prints left there later.

“Is that home?” she asked. He made noises of agreement as he spotted a second shuttle flying from the surface towards the destroyer.

Galen pointed towards a more desolate area. “That’s where our home was.”

Jyn pulled her face away from the duraplast long enough to look up at him curiously. “We aren’t going back?”

“No. We’ll never see this planet again,” he said quietly. Galen kept an iron grip on himself in the presence of Jyn. He could never tell her how afraid he was in that moment when Orson’s ship had set down on the planet. She was quite observant, and if he slipped up, she would know that something was wrong.

For now, she merely blinked in confusion, and he spotted the tell tale signs of a stifled yawn. She was tired, but as usual, she was trying to hide it. Jyn didn’t like sleeping in her bedroom back on the homestead. She’d always complained that it just wasn’t right. There was always too much or too little light. Too much or too little sound. He’d wondered as the years went by, if she retained some memory of her bedroom, with its large floor to ceiling duraplast window. The view of the city with the shining Imperial Palace in the center had been spectacular from her bedroom, especially at night.

Galen, himself was tired, but he didn’t see himself getting much sleep anytime soon. “You didn’t get dinner before all this . . . excitement. Why don’t we have something to eat?” he said with a reassuring smile.

He took Jyn’s hand to guide her to the table. She clamoured up into the padded chair, and he winced as bits of dirt and foliage rubbed off her clothing and onto the fine fabric. He wasn’t in any better shape, he knew, so he ignored the fallings of dirt from his own sleeves as he fixed Jyn a plate. He waited until she had settled in before turning away from the table.

He couldn’t eat anything right now, anyway.

He had been on more than his share of destroyers in the past, and Orson’s quarters here were no different than they’d been before. The refresher was connected to the closet, and he had to walk through the rows of Orson’s things to get there. The perfectly pressed uniforms surrounded him like a wall of inescapable white . . . only for them to give way to engineering blue.

Galen froze at the sight of his old uniforms hanging there, just as they had three years ago. His hand came up to touch the fabric, but he stopped short, his fingers hovering mere centimeters above the fabric. Everything here was still so . . . _perfect._ Galen could remember taking a uniform down, just as he might right now, but the clean and polished nails of old were long gone, replaced with short blunt stubs that were nearly permanently black from dirt and grease.

“Papa?” Jyn called from the other room. Galen hastily pulled his hand away.

“Coming, sweetheart!” He hastily left the closet and went inside the ‘fresher. The lights came on automatically, and he blinked away the tears that sprang up in response to the brightness after living for years on a cloudy, stormy planet.

He grabbed two towels from the open shelves beside the mirror and grimaced at how gaunt he appeared in the harsh and unforgiving illumination. He walked back into the main room and Jyn looked ready to fall asleep into her food.

“I guess that was a bit too much for you, sweetheart,” he said and judging by the sheer volume of missing spice cakes, she was probably about to hit a sugar coma. Galen had been just the same when he was younger when his mother would bring the treats home from the market back on Grange.

He laid the towels down on Orson’s sofa before moving Jyn atop them. He watched as she buried her face into the soft pillow.

Galen sat with her as he contemplated how he’d started today only thinking about compressors and how he was now ending it in fear for his and his daughter’s lives. Demesne had said that they’d be left alone, but clearly Orson wasn’t done with them yet. He sighed and clenched his fists at how powerless he felt.

The ship gave a hint of a tremble as it jumped into hyperspace. Lah’mu disappeared in a wave of light, leaving only the rippling blue and white of hyperspace in its place. Galen’s eyes were riveted on the sight of it reflecting over the surface of the polished dining table.

The door slid open behind him. He didn’t turn around.

“Sir, we recovered this in the Mr. Erso’s home,” came the modulated voice of a ‘trooper.

“Erso-Krennic,” the director corrected with a mutter. Galen flinched as he heard the doors shut again. Orson walked around the sofa to stand in front of him and Galen licked his suddenly dry lips as he recognized what the director held in his hand. _The datapad._ Everytime he’d begun to doubt himself—his decision to leave, he’d pull out that datapad and read it.

He’d read it more times that he cared to admit.

Orson’s eyes were moving over the information. Galen heard the creak of the duraplast as the man’s fingers tightened on the tiny pad. Orson looked ready to explode, though Galen couldn’t fathom why—it was his own words written there wasn’t it? The director’s eyes slid over to their sleeping daughter for a second before coming back to Galen.

“Come with me,” he said, walking around the sofa towards a side door that lead to the bedroom.

Galen’s hand trembled slightly. “I don’t think—”

“You do not want her to witness what is about to happen,” Orson snapped out.

The engineer reared back a bit. His husband had never spoken to him that way before. He hastily got up, keeping his gaze on Jyn up until the second the door shut behind them. He didn’t have time to do anything though, as he was slammed into the wall beside the door, a gloved hand pressing painfully into his throat.

The pad was held up before him. “Who gave this to you?” Orson demanded.

Galen swallowed as best as he could. “It doesn’t matter,” he rasped through the limited air.

“It _does.”_ Orson bit out. “These records were destroyed years ago. That was my reward for the successful test of Phase One.”

Galen’s eyes widened. “You . . . _Jyn_ . . .”

The director released him and Galen coughed a bit as Orson nodded, his eyes intent. “The records were my reward, and Jyn was _yours.”_

The engineer sagged heavily against the wall without the support of Orson. How could he have been so stupid? He’d suspected that Jyn was just another of Orson’s manipulations, but was she only that? A pat on the head for a doing a good job?

But his husband wasn’t done. The pad dropped to the ground with a clatter and the director dug his fingers again into Galen’s jaw to lift his face up. The man moved in closer and Galen could smell the scent of citrus from Orson’s favorite breath fresheners and feel the heat of his body. Galen tried to pull away but the man wouldn’t budge.

“No use lying to you anymore, is there?” Orson asked flatly. “Our baby was my gift to you—my attempt to make up for the years that I didn’t love you like you deserved to be loved. She was the beginning of our true life together.”

The engineer shook his head. “You’re still _lying_ to me. If you loved me, you would told me. I—I gave up everything for you! My goals, my principals and morals, everything—”

Krennic was quick to cut him off. “And _I_ gave you ambition, a family, and power in return,” he hissed out. “Our Project Stardust is the future of the Empire. You and I will be the ones to bring it to life.”

“It’s not what I wanted,” Galen said, grimacing at the pitiful and weak strain of his voice.

Orson snorted. “You wanted a planet that could sustain life, and we are building it. Do not pretend now that you didn’t know what we were doing. You’ve known for years what the end result of your work would be.” The director paused as he leaned in further, a leg pushing its way between Galen’s knees.

“But you didn’t care, did you?” he continued. “You were content to see your dream realized, to prove all those people from the academy wrong, to throw your success in their faces. You thanked me again and again for my support of you over the years, and all of that time, you knew what I wanted.”

Galen shrank a bit in Orson’s arms. He’d told himself that he was doing a good thing—that the weapon of Stardust was for defense—that it didn’t matter that it was powerful enough to destroy entire planets . . . it wouldn’t be used that way. But deep inside, he’d known. Every time Orson would ask how powerful the weapon was and every time when he asked how many more kyber crystals would it take to make it stronger. Could another reactor be added? What was the charge time?

He’d ignored the warnings—ignored how Orson would kiss him, touch him . . . _take_ him when Galen would try to question his partner about their goals. Until he didn’t ask anymore. But the truth had been revealed. Why was Orson still insisting on the charade of their marriage?

“Let go of me,” he said tightly, but the director shook his head.

“I’ll never let go of you. Not now. Not ever. I love you, and I will say it as often as you need to hear it until you believe me again.”

Galen felt moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. “I can’t . . .”

Orson’s fingers slid over his throat and into his hair as the man breathed in his scent. “I know. It will take time, but you love me still—I know you do.”

Galen didn’t answer the accusation immediately. Of course he did, but that didn’t matter. He’d loved Orson with everything he had, but to protect Jyn, he would leave the man a thousand times over. “He said you would kill us when I finished,” he finally said.

Orson’s eyes narrowed. _“Who,_ Galen? Who gave you the pad? Who told you these _lies?”_

The engineer tried to look away, but Orson would not let him. “I have _done_ things for you, Galen,” he said. “I will continue to do things that would break your heart to know of, but I do them all for you and Jyn. Tell me who it was.”

“You would kill him,” Galen said softly.

Orson’s face morphed into something between glee and malice, his body curling up even closer to Galen. _“Yes,”_ he said, meaningfully, his breath ghosting over Galen’s skin. “When I think of the night I came home to find you and Jyn gone—when I think of the weeks and months I spent alone in our home, waiting for you to contact me—to tell me why, to give me a chance to explain . . .” He trailed off. Galen could see how the confession affected him.

“I can never be angry with you, my love,” Orson said, at last. “You were scared, and you ran to protect our daughter. But the man who dug up the past that I worked so hard to bury— _he_ does not have much time left.”

No matter that Reeves Demesne was an odious little toad, he didn’t deserve to die for exposing Orson’s own lies. “I can’t be the one to do this. If I tell you his name . . . I would be signing his death warrant.”

The director pulled away slightly. Galen met his gaze. He could see the wheels turning behind those blue eyes as the man assessed the situation.

“Fine,” Orson said, after a beat. “If you will not tell me now, then I will find another way for us to fill our time until we reach Coruscant.” Galen blinked in stunned confusion as his husband’s lips slanted over his.

The familiar citrus flavor burst into his mouth as Orson’s hand clenched into Galen’s hair, just the way he liked it. He moaned into the kiss as the director’s thigh rode higher up, brushing against his cock. It had been years since they’d last made love, and Galen was ashamed at how desperate his body had become in the face of the man who had hurt him so badly.

“No, Orson,” he moaned as he pulled away. The other man shook his head as his face was buried in Galen’s throat. “Jyn’s in the other room.”

“Jyn will be asleep for a few more hours, at least,” the director said, his hand having slid down to begin unlatching Galen’s belt.

The engineer balked. “What? What did you do?” he asked, his voice rough with unwanted lust. His hands sought out Orson’s to try and stop him. She’d fallen asleep so fast. How had he not noticed?

“The cakes,” he hissed.

His husband did pause, but Galen could detect no guilt on his face. “Your favorite, as I recall. It was a mild sedative to make our journey easier, but I’m guessing you didn’t eat any. It must have been our darling Jyn who demolished half the batch,” he said with an affectionate snort. “I remember when you would do the same. They were meant more for you, but don’t worry. It’s approved for use on children. I wanted this conversation to happen in our home on Coursesant, but my quarters will do.”

“Orson!” Galen yelped. The man tore at Galen’s loose jacket and threw it to the floor. His heavy utilitarian belt soon followed. The director’s hands slid beneath Galen’s black sweater. He could not stop himself from gasping as a one of the director’s hands slid inside his pants, a finger dipping in further.

“Take off your gloves,” he gasped out.

Orson chuckled. “I’m taking off more than that,” he said. He pulled away slightly nonetheless, and hastily peeled off the black gloves. The space gave Galen a chance to breathe.

There was no escape from this situation. There was no escape from this _man._

“I’m . . . I’m filthy. Let me go shower—please,” he begged. The director’s face tilted slightly as he thought over the request. His eyes moved over Galen’s dirt-streaked face and his clinging wet clothes. Orson’s formerly elegant husband was a mess.

He nodded after a beat. “Fine. Go and bathe, but be quick about it or I’m coming in after you.”

Years ago, it would have been a playful threat, but now it only caused Galen to nod hastily as he scrambled away. He walked back through the closet and into the ‘fresher. He turned the water on and watched as some of it went uselessly down the drain before he pulled his dark sweater off.

Galen looked at it for a moment before throwing it into the laundry chute. He’d never see it again, but then, he wouldn’t be needing it anymore either. The rest of his clothes followed until he stood naked in the stark white room. There was no hiding anymore—not from Orson, not from his past. His stay of execution had ended and there was nothing for him anymore but acceptance or refusal.

Perhaps, if it had just been him—if they hadn’t caught Jyn—He would have considered refusing Orson, but he had a daughter to think about and . . . Orson Krennic had been, and still was, the love of his life. Orson was buried deep beneath his skin and into his very being. Even after everything, he could never hate the man . . . not as much as he was going to hate himself for finishing Stardust.

He reached out and felt the water as steam filled the small room. It was hot—hotter than he’d ever been able to get it back in his homestead and he stifled a moan as the heat relaxed his muscles. Seconds ticked by as he just stood there, but he knew he couldn’t put off what was to come much longer.

The water ran darkly down the drain as he soaped his skin and hair and scrubbed his body, pink. _When was the last time I was this clean?_ he wondered. Orson had only the best soaps that smelled of earthy florals and mint. They were same as they’d been before Galen had left and he was unsurprised by that. His husband was a creature of habit.

He was careful as he scrubbed every inch of himself, but he kept the time short. His heart rate had already begun to pick up some speed. Only a few minutes had elapsed by the time the engineer stepped out of the stall and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“Quickly, Galen!” Orson called from the other room, and he took a steadying breath before stepping into the closet. He paused, though only for a few seconds to reach out and touch the engineering uniform. His skin and nails were clean this time and the familiar material felt soft under his fingertips.

As Galen entered the room again, he found Orson had already shed his clothing and all he wore now was a long white robe that was open at the chest. His erection was tenting the material, and Galen swallowed at the sight.

“Try not to look so apprehensive, Galen,” Orson said softly as he approached. He reached out first and ran his hand over his husband’s chest. The engineer wasn’t as filled out as he’d been three years ago. Working on the farm was hard work, and perfectly measured and constructed meals designed to maintain an ideal physique were not exactly prevalent on Lah’mu. He could tell that Orson was slightly upset by what he saw, but his lust did not diminish.

“When we get back to Coruscant, we’ll go to that pastry shop you love so much and get one or two of everything,” Orson said quietly; it seemed as though he hadn’t realized that he’d said it aloud. He’d always like Galen a bit on the . . . thicker side—liked seeing his fingers sink into Galen’s flesh as he held on tight enough to leave bruises.

“Jyn would like that,” Galen said. The director looked up suddenly, a slow smile curving his lips as though the idea—and Galen’s acceptance—pleased him before surging forward and taking his mouth in a harsh kiss. Galen’s hands froze at his side for a second before they hesitantly moved to clench the material of Orson’s robe.

“I need you,” Orson whispered into his mouth. Galen nodded quickly as his towel fell to the ground and the director pulled him forcefully towards the bed.

The engineer felt his own erection begin to slowly harden, but Orson wasn’t looking for a half-hearted attempt. He knelt down between Galen’s legs and took the other man into his mouth. Galen blinked rapidly and his breathing became uneven as he watched his husband’s mouth stretch and his cheeks hollow around Galen’s cock.

“Orson,” he breathed, his blunt nails digging into the director’s shoulder. It had been so long . . . too long, and he wasn’t able to stop himself from coming. Galen gasped for breath as Orson swallowed him down before releasing him with a pop of his lips.

Their eyes met and the director raised a brow at how quickly he’d come. “I knew you still wanted me,” Orson whispered, his voice a rasp of heat and lust, and his expression smug.

“It was never a question of wanting you Orson,” Galen said as steadily as he could, despite the flush he knew that stained his cheeks. The director’s face twitched the slightest bit and his eyes narrowed so Galen left it alone.

He leaned down and Orson met him halfway and this time the kiss was soft, coaxing. It was familiar and the engineer let his hand slide from Orson’s shoulder to his cheek, his fingers feeling the small differences in his husband’s skin.

Orson moved up his body and as they came up for breath, Galen felt his brows knit. “You’re tired,” he said as he observed the dark circles under Orson’s eyes.

“I haven’t slept much,” Orson murmured. There was no anger or recrimination in his tone.

Galen didn’t apologize for what he’d done, and his husband didn’t expect one. They continued to share shallow kisses. Orson pushed him onto his back Galen looked up at him, doing his best to keep the trepidation that he felt off his face.

He was doing this. He was letting Orson Krennic back inside. He had little choice in the matter, but he wasn’t being forced. _No . . . Orson wouldn’t do that._ The director continued to look down at him, his fingers running lightly over Galen’s stomach, and his eyes seemed to be mapping every change to Galen’s body.

After a beat, a slow smile curved his lips as he reached over and pulled a familiar capsule from a shallow dish on the side table. Galen’s gaze had followed those fingers and along with the small blue bead, there were small white patches as well. Bacta patches.

The engineer felt his breathing hitch at the sight of them and he shuddered as bit as the capsule was pushed inside his back entrance. It would only take a few seconds to relax and clean his inner muscles.

“We have several hours until we reach Coruscant,” Orson said. Galen’s eyes snapped back to the man. “I don’t intend to make it easy for you to walk by the time I’m done,” he said, in way of explanation.

Galen said nothing as Orson leaned over him and lined his cock up. Despite the show that Orson had been putting on before, Galen could see that he was smugly pleased with himself and the position he’d so quickly put his wayward husband into. As he began pushing inside, Galen couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and wrapping both arms around the director and holding tightly to the other man.

“I’ve got you,” Orson whispered. “I’ll always have you.”

There was more than one meaning to his words, but Galen couldn’t bring himself to over analyse that at this particular moment. He was far too busy letting Orson do that thing where he breathed into his ear and tweaked a nipple in time with his thrusts. Galen lost track of time as his husband continued to move quickly and without much of his old finesse.

It could have been minutes or an hour, but soon he was shuddering against the director and Galen dug his nails into Orson’s back as he rode out his orgasm. Orson’s breathing had become a soft hiss as he also drew near to his end.

“Tell me,” Orson whispered into his ear, his voice ragged with the strain of his impending orgasm.

Galen swallowed and he knew what the man wanted.

“Even if it’s a lie—tell me,” Orson repeated, his words growing even harsher.

“I love you,” Galen said softly. He didn’t know if it was a lie or not. Orson let out a low groan as he came inside the other man. Galen panted against the director’s shoulder as the man all but collapsed on top of him. It was quiet for a while and Galen could almost pretend that nothing had changed—that things could be the same as they’d always been.

“I missed you,” Orson said after a moment. “Don’t leave me again. I couldn’t take it.”

Galen’s jaw trembled, but he nodded. “Don’t lie to me anymore.”

Orson pulled away so that he could look at the engineer in the eye. “Do you really want to know everything, Galen? I would protect you from the . . . harsher realities of the Empire.”

It was a valid question, one that he wasn’t quite certain that he knew the answer to so he said exactly what he felt. “Protect us, Orson, but don’t keep us in the dark. Not anymore.”

The director hesitated but he eventually nodded and brushed a kiss over Galen’s lips. The engineer stared towards the ceiling waiting for the inevitable.

“Tell me who gave you the pad,” Orson said quietly, as though half afraid to disturb his husband, but unwilling to let go of what he sought. Galen snorted and shook his head, no. Orson’s thumb ran over Galen’s lips, and while he didn’t seem upset, but the determined set of his brow told Galen all he needed to know. He wouldn’t win in this—not any of this.

“You’re asking for my honesty—for me to never keep things from you. I ask that you do the same,” Orson said.

He was tempted to refuse again, but if they were _really_ starting anew . . . “The general’s son, Reeves,” he said, his eyes intent. Orson tensed over him and Galen watched the play of emotions over his husband’s face. A horrible feeling began to brew in the pit of his stomach.

“That little bastard,” the director bit out.

“You _know_ him,” Galen said softly—accusingly.

Orson fully pulled away him, his limp cock sliding out of Galen and leaving his seed in its wake. The engineer watched as Orson sat on the mattress with his feet on the floor. He would not meet Galen’s eyes and that was all he needed to know.

“You were sleeping with him, weren’t you?” It was less of a question than he’d meant it to be; Galen’s eyes slipped closed in a pain unlike any other he’d felt. His husband . . . his _world_ had loved another, and it felt as though someone were squeezing his lungs and it hurt to breathe—to _exist._

Orson nodded, his eyes shut before his hands came up to shield his face in pain and shame. Galen’s fists trembled and he winced at the pain in his back as he pulled himself up to lean against the headboard. He did not touch Orson . . . he put as much space between them as he could.

“How long?” Galen asked. How long had his husband been fucking someone else?

He heard Orson take in a shuddering breath. “It stopped eight years ago,” he said and the engineer felt angry tears fill his eyes as old wounds were torn open once more. He’d never been enough for anyone back on Grange or in school and the one person that he’d thought had actually _seen_ him, had been not only a liar, but a cheater.

How had this happened?

“You were . . . after we were married?” he choked out.

Orson finally turned to him, his eyes pleading and he reached out but Galen shook his head hastily and the director ceased the movement. “Yes. I didn’t—I wasn’t in love with you then,” he said softly.

Galen had known that, of course. How could Orson have possibly felt anything but cold detachment with the way he’d written about their encounters in his records? The engineer longed to slap the man, to beat him with his fists and make him bleed.

“You used him for his connections—to help your career. Just like you used me.”

Orson shook his head in denial. “We used each other. I tried ending it time and again, but he would just keep comming me. I thought if I put him off too much, he comm the house, and I . . .”

Galen had asked for honesty, but this—

Orson reached out again and took Galen’s hand into his own, his fingers rubbing over Galen’s pulse. “Please. I need to know that you forgive me. I never—I know things aren’t alright, but I can’t regret any of it. You and Jyn—you’re everything to me. I never wanted you to find out because I never wanted to hurt you. The way you used to look at me . . . I would do anything to get back to that. _Please._ ”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

Orson fingers tightened. _“No._ You need to understand. If anyone thinks that things aren’t fine between us, there will be trouble. You are our most gifted scientist, and you _ran away._ There was a _kill order_ put out on you.”

Galen tried to pull away, but Orson held on tightly. Orson was good at smoothing things over and schmoozing with all the right people, but to have something like that rescinded.

“What—What did you promise Palpatine?” he asked.

The director moved even closer; Galen had to physically stop himself from pushing the other man away. “That we would finish Stardust—ahead of schedule,” he answered.

 _Of course._ Everything was and had always been about Stardust. Galen regretted ever coming to the core worlds and attending that disgusting prep school. Why hadn’t he stayed on Grange and just designed mining equipment like his father had wanted? His life hadn’t been perfect, but Stardust was the beginning of the end of his life.

“It’s not really Stardust anymore, though,” he said thoughtfully, his mind shutting down against the onslaught of painful emotions. Stardust had never really been his—not since he’d shared it with a kind officer in the courtyard of the Academy.

“No, it’s not.”

He tried to push away the sadness that he felt. Orson had no regrets but Galen had nothing else. “How can I forgive myself for doing this?” he asked sadly.

Orson licked his lips as he took Galen’s face into his hands. “Think of us. Think of _Jyn._ No one else outside this family matters,” he said heatedly. “The Rebels would execute any of us without a thought and our esteemed colleges plot against us from the shadows. Do you remember what I told you? That first day we met in the courtyard?”

He remembered that day as though it were physically carved into the folds of his brain. “They’ll eat each other alive,” he said slowly.

Orson nodded. “Yes. Rebel or Imperial. It doesn’t matter. They are _all_ against us. If we want to live—if we want _Jyn_ to live, we must make ourselves indispensable. _Untouchable.”_

Galen’s eyes slid towards the door where just beyond, he knew their daughter slept. He swallowed as he nodded. There was no going back. Not anymore.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So, show of hands: who thinks Orson played Galen like a drum? XD
> 
> I wasn't sure about adding the sex, but that just seemed to be where the story was headed so I hope I didn't put you guys off with it. This was a bear to edit so my eternal thanks goes to Copper_Nails for putting up with all this once more.


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